surely? Jeavis would not suspect her of having murdered Prudence; she had no possible reason. And Monk had made no secret that it was Callandra who had hired him to investigate further.
Could it be that she knew, or thought she knew, who the murderer was, and feared for her own safety? It seemed unlikely. If she knew something, surely she would have told Monk immediately and taken steps to guard herself.
Hester was still turning over unsatisfactory possibilities in her mind when she was sent for to assist Kristian Beck. Mr. Prendergast was recovering well and no longer required her presence through the night. She was tired from too little sleep, the uncertainty of not being able to rest until she woke naturally.
Kristian Beck said nothing, but she knew from the occasional expression in his eyes that he was aware how weary she was, and he merely smiled at her occasional hesitations. He did not even criticize her when she dropped an instrument and had to reach down and pick it up, wipe it clean and then pass it to him.
When they were finished she was embarrassed at her ineptitude and eager to leave, but she could not forsake the opportunity to observe him further. He also was tired, and he was far too intelligent to be unaware of Jeavis's suspicions of him. It is at such times that people betray themselves: feelings are too raw to hide and there is no strength for the extra guard upon thought.
'I do not hold a great deal of hope for him,' Kristian said to her quietly, regarding the patient 'But we have done all we can.'
'Do you wish me to sit up with himT' she asked out of duty. She was dreading his reply.
But she need not have been worried. He smiled-a brief, illuminating, and gentle gesture. 'No. No, Mrs. Flaherty will assign someone. You should sleep.'
'But-'
'You must learn to let go, Miss Latterly.' He shook his head very slightly. 'If you do not, you will exhaust yourself-and then whom can you help? Surely the Crimea taught you that the first rule of caring for others is that you must maintain your own strength, and that if you come to the limit of your own resources your judgment will be affected.' His eyes did not leave her face. 'And the sick deserve the best you can give. Neither skill nor compassion are enough; you must also have wisdom.'
'Of course you are right,' she agreed. 'Perhaps I was losing my sense of proportion.'
A flash of humor crossed his face. 'It is not hard to do. Come.' And he led the way out of the theater, holding the door open for her. They were in the corridor, walking side by side in silence, when they almost bumped into Callandra as she came out of one of the wards.
She stopped abruptly, the color rushing up her cheeks. There was no apparent reason she should have been flustered, and yet it seemed she was. Hester drew breath to say something, then realized that Callandra was looking only at Kristian; she was scarcely aware of Hester to his left and half a step behind.
'Oil-good morning-Doctor,' Callandra said hastily, trying to regain her composure.
He looked a little puzzled. 'Good morning, Lady Callandra.' His voice was soft and he spoke the words very distinctly, as if he liked her name on his tongue. He frowned. 'Is all well?'
'Oh yes,' she replied. Then she realized how ridiculous that was, in the circumstances. She smiled, but the effort it cost her was plain to Hester. 'As good as we may hope, with police all over the place, I suppose. They do not seem to have achieved anything.'
'I doubt they would tell us if they had,' Kristian said ruefully. Then he gave a thin answering smile, full of doubt and self-mockery. 'I'm sure they suspect me! Inspector Jeavis keeps on asking me about having quarreled with poor Nurse Barrymore. I've finally remembered it was over a mistake she felt one of the student doctors had made, which I overruled. It makes one wonder just what was overheard, and by whom.' He shook his head a little.
Callandra did not look directly at him, and the color was high in her cheeks. 'You cannot govern your life by what you fear others may think of you. If-if what you are doing is what you believe to be right-they will have to think as they please.' She took a deep breath and then said nothing.
Both Hester and Kristian waited for her to continue, but she did not. Left as it was it sounded bare, and a little trite, hot like Callandra at all.
'Does…' She looked at Kristian directly. 'Does Jeavis disturb you?' This time her eyes searched his face.
'I dislike being suspected,' he answered frankly. 'But I know the man is only doing his duty. I wish I had some idea what actually happened to poor Nurse Barrymore, but hard as I think, nothing conies to me.'
'There are innumerable reasons why someone might have killed her,' Callandra said with sudden ferocity. 'A rejected lover, a jealous woman, an envious nurse, a mad or disaffected patient, all sorts of people.' She finished a little breathlessly, and without looking at Hester.
'I expect Jeavis will have thought of those things too.'
Kristian pulled a slight face. His eyes never left Callandra's. 'I hope he is pursuing them with equal diligence. Do you wish to speak to me about something? Or did we merely bump into you?'
'Just… chance,' Callandra replied. 'I am-on my way to see the chaplain.'
Kristian bowed very slightly and excused himself, leaving Hester and Callandra alone in the corridor. Apparently without realizing it, Callandra watched him until he turned the corner into a ward and disappeared, then she looked back at Hester.
'How are you, my dear?' she asked with a sudden gentleness in her voice. 'You look very tired.' She herself looked exhausted. Her skin was pale and her hair wilder than ever, as if she had run her fingers through it distractedly.
Hester entirely dismissed her own feelings. There was obviously some deep trouble in Callandra and her whole concern- was how to help. She was uncertain as to whether she should even acknowledge that she was aware of it, much less ask what it was. Something in Callandra's manner made her feel it was private, and in all possibility that was part of its burden.
She made herself assume a casual expression.
'I'm tired at the moment,' she acknowledged. There was no point in a lie; it would be unbearably patronizing. 'But the work is most rewarding. Sir Herbert really is a brilliant surgeon. He has not only skill but courage.'
'Yes indeed,' Callandra agreed with a flash of enthusiasm. 'I hear he is high in line for appointment as medical adviser to someone in the Royal household-I forget whom.'
'No wonder he is looking pleased with himself,' Hester said immediately. 'But I daresay it is well deserved. Still, it is a great honor.'
'Indeed.' Callandra's face darkened again. 'Hester, have you seen William lately? Do you know how he is doing-if he has learned anything… pertinent?' There was an edge to her voice and she looked at Hester with a nervousness she failed to conceal.
'I haven't seen him for a day or two,' Hester replied, wishing she knew what better to say. What troubled Callandra so much? Usually she was a woman of deep sensitivity, of empathy and a great will to fight, but for all that, there was an inner calm in her, a certainty that no outside forces could alter. Suddenly that peace at the core of her was gone. Whatever it was she feared had struck at the root of her being.
And it concerned Kristian Beck. Hester was almost sure of that. Had she heard the rumors of his quarrel with Prudence and feared he was guilty? Even so, why would that cause her anything but the same grief it would bring everyone else? Why should it disturb her in this quite fundamental way?
The answer was obvious. There was only one possibility in Hester's mind, one reason such a thing would have disturbed her. Her mind flew back to a bitter night during the siege of Sebastopol. The snow had been deep, muffling the hills in white, deadening sound, laying a biting cold upon everything. The wind had got up so it bit through the thin blankets the men huddled in, shuddering with cold. Everyone was hungry. Even now she could not bear to think of the horses.
She had thought herself in love with one of the surgeons-although what was the difference between being in love and thinking yourself so? Surely an emotion is the same whether it lasts or not-like pain. If you believe you hurt, you feel it just the same.
It was that night that she had realized he had been so terrified on the battlefield that he had left wounded men to die. She could still remember the agony of that discovery now, years after she had ceased to feel anything for him except compassion.
Callandra was in love with Kristian Beck. Of course. Now that she realized it, she wondered how she had ever
